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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995522">Two Sides of an (Ancient) Coin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KettleHive/pseuds/KettleHive'>KettleHive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Gwaine (mentioned only), Canonical Character Death, I'm Bad At Titles, Light Angst, M/M, Merlin has a farm, Modern Merlin definitely drives a Prius, Mutual Pining, Past Character Death, Past Gwaine/Percival (mentioned only), Past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Resurrection, Slow Burn, and summaries, and yes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:35:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KettleHive/pseuds/KettleHive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Note: I've been having a lot of wrist/hand pain associated with my job and typing is pretty tough right now. Rest assured, I've not abandoned this story - I'm still working on this one, but weekly updates might be a little too optimistic while I wait to get seen by a specialist.</p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Based on the news report,  it sounded as though Arthur had woken up in a lake, miraculously healed, with no realization that a significant amount of time - 1500 years, give or take a couple of decades -  and thrown himself and his sword at a car as soon as he’d seen one, likely believing it to be a monster of some kind. Entirely in character for his Arthur, all things considered. </p><p>If it’s really Arthur, a small, pessimistic voice in his head reminded him. It could just be a concussed, if well-equipped, LARPer or something, remember. Who happened to be swimming around in the lake you laid Arthur to rest in. That you've remained within an hour's walk of for the past 15 centuries or so. Waiting. A total coincidence. Don't get your hopes up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>253</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! This wasn't supposed to be a semi-angsty slow-burn fic, but here we are. I'm not sorry. Rating is for later chapters.</p><p>I'm also not British! I'm very, very American, y'alls, but I'm open to constructive criticism, and good at research (if I say so myself)! If you spot errors or inconsistencies that are drawing your attention out of the story, please send me a DM and let me know so I can make edits if needed! Honestly, please tell me!</p><p>I don't own Merlin or any of the other characters I'm shamelessly borrowing for this work. Shocking, I know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dr. Merlin Emrys,” the girl said, holding out her book for him to sign. “Isn’t your name a little… on the nose?” She was young - Merlin would have guessed in her late teens, getting ready to choose a university.</p><p>Merlin forced an easy chuckle as he took his book, <em>The Middle Ages: Fact and Fantasy,</em> from her. “My parents were great fans of Arthurian history. Sometimes, when I was a youth, I could have sworn I was there.” He hoped he’d managed to keep his tone light. He’d written the book after becoming frustrated by the many myths and inaccuracies that had sprung up around Arthur over the years, and in particular several Hollywood interpretations of the legend (<em>King Arthur </em>in particular was offensive to his sensibilities - <em>Monty Python and the Holy Grail </em>had perhaps been his favorite, even despite the historical inaccuracies). </p><p>He’d managed to earn a PhD. in history at Oxford, to go with previous dabblings in archaeology, and his careful “research” and the way he’d managed to dig up a handful of corroborating artifacts, had been detailed in the first book that was widely accepted to effectively prove the existence of the legendary king. Of course, he’d had some… insider information that helped him write it.</p><p>"What’s your name?” he asked, flipping the book open and hovering his pen over the red front end paper.</p><p>“Gwen,” she said, a little breathlessly. </p><p>“Ah, the kindest, wisest Queen in history,” he commented, cocking an eyebrow before writing, <em>Gwen, rule your future! -Merlin</em> in an elegant, loopy cursive, before closing the book and handing it back.</p><p>She flipped it open immediately, read the inscription, and beamed. “I will, Dr. Emrys! Thank you!”<br/><br/>Gwen had been the last one in line, and Merlin stood up from the neat folding table, stretching his back. The last signing on this tour was finally over. He could see the bookstore staff closing up - flipping the sign in the window, counting registers, and straightening the shelves. He’d bought them all lunch as thanks for hosting his signing,  and one cashier was eating a slice of cold pizza with one hand and running a vacuum cleaner with the other, moving his head in time with whatever music was on his air pods.</p><p>Merlin took out his phone, and texted his agent. <em>Last signing done. Headed home.</em></p><p>His agent, Leslie, texted back. <em>Great! Enjoy your time off - text me if your muse hits you upside the head with an idea for your next book.</em><em><br/></em> He smiled. <em>Will do! Thanks for everything, Les.</em></p><p>He shoved the phone back into his jeans pocket, thanked the manager of the store profusely for hosting him, and then got into his rental to return to the airport to fly home.</p><p>He started the car and started driving, flipping the stereo on. </p><p>
  <em> “...Fortunately, no one was hurt in the accident. Moving on, authorities were baffled this morning when they were called out to Lake Avalon in the countryside. An unidentified man in full chainmail attacked a passing car with a sword, after apparently washing up out of the lake. There were no injuries.” </em>
</p><p>Merlin pulled over to the hard shoulder abruptly and slammed on the brakes, ignoring the irritated honks and shouting from the other motorists, and turned the radio up.</p><p>
  <em> “He was subdued by local police and taken to a nearby hospital for psychiatric observation after repeatedly declaring himself to be the legendary King Authur. If anyone has any information about the identity of this individual, or can assist authorities in locating next-of-kin, please call-” </em>
</p><p>Merlin realized he was hyperventilating. <em> It couldn’t be… could it? </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He sat on the plane, feeling a clench in his guts. He’d been selected for “enhanced screening” at the airport after one of the security officers flagged him for ‘suspicious’ behavior. He supposed he’d been nervous and antsy, and his heart kept pounding in his chest. </p><p>The legend of King Arthur was well-known. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. It could have been some medieval LARPer who took a blow to the head, fell in the lake, and woke up disoriented to attack a passing car.</p><p>It could definitely be a coincidence. Right?</p><p>Merlin supposed he could have transported himself home with a thought, but it was rather important, in these days of CCTV cameras and ID photos, to look normal. Bad enough he had to magically create a new identity every few decades - a feat which, over the last hundred years or so, had become a bigger and bigger headache each time he had to do it. Used to be, you could just wander to a different town or village, provide a new name, and no one was any the wiser. </p><p>Now you had driving licenses and facial recognition technology. </p><p>Magic had largely died out in the centuries since Merlin had left Camelot - except for his. There were no practitioners of the Old Religion - sure, there were those around who <em> supposedly </em> practiced it, but they were a far cry from the Druids of yore, and what rituals they did had very little power. Gaius was gone. Gwen too, and the Knights. He’d laid them all to rest, one by one, in the Darkling Wood. </p><p>Camelot was a crumbling ruin, a few short sections of stone wall marking where it had once stood. Even the Great Dragon had died by around the time of the Renaissance. Merlin had spent much of the last several centuries feeling completely, utterly alone.</p><p>He stepped off the plane as soon as it landed, collected his luggage, and drove directly home. It was approaching midnight - as much as he wanted to investigate the man who had washed up along Lake Avalon, no hospital would accept a visitor such as himself so late.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Merlin had been careful with his money over the centuries, and had managed to put quite a bit away before investing heavily in Google during the ‘90s. The gamble had paid off well beyond his wildest dreams. He technically never had to work another day for at least the next five centuries, unless inflation got out of control. The entire proceeds from his book were being donated to various scholarship programs and grants.</p><p>He still chose to live modestly, and had purchased several acres of farmland within an hour’s walk of Lake Avalon. He’d had a large stone farmhouse built on the property, with all the modern comforts he’d come to enjoy - including a large corner tub with jets in his own ensuite bathroom. </p><p>While at the moment, he had a few chickens, a small vegetable garden, and a handful of goats, he had hoped to get some horses now that he was home for the summer. </p><p>He went directly upstairs to the second bedroom in his farmhouse, and stepped through the door into Arthur’s room.</p><p>While the Great Dragon had insisted that Arthur would come back someday, Merlin had no idea what that would look like, or what shape he would be in when he did. He’d decided to replicate Arthur’s chambers from Camelot as closely as possible, just in case, to give him a sense of something familiar when he returned.</p><p>The only changes were the slightly smaller scale (Arthur did not need a whole dining table in his bedroom in 2018), the electricity, and the attached ensuite bathroom. Other than that (and a modern mattress), it had been painstakingly copied down to the last stitch of embroidery on the bedspread.</p><p>Based on the news report,  it sounded as though Arthur had woken up in a lake, miraculously healed, with no realization that a significant amount of time - 1500 years, give or take a couple of decades -  and thrown himself and his sword at a car as soon as he’d seen one, likely believing it to be a monster of some kind. Entirely in character for his Arthur, all things considered.</p><p><em>If it’s really Arthur, </em>a small, pessimistic voice in his head reminded him. <em>It could just be a concussed, if well-equipped, LARPer or something, remember. Who happened to be swimming around in the lake you laid Arthur to rest in. That you've remained within an hour's walk of for the past 15 centuries or so. Waiting. A total coincidence. Don't get your hopes up.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For some reason when I tried to think of Merlin's literary agent I kept picturing a British version of Leslie Knope from Parks &amp; Rec, if you're curious about how she got her name.</p><p>I can't promise regular updates because my muse is fickle and my life is somehow still just as busy while working from home as it was with an irritating commute twice a day, but I've got a good chunk written already and I'll break it up into manageable chapters now and again.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One obligatory statement right up top: Please don’t think that I’m making light of mental illness in this chapter - that is absolutely not my intention. Mental illness are extremely common, and almost everyone suffers from one or more at some point in their lives. Contrary to popular belief and many works of fiction, the vast, vast majority of people with mental illness are not violent. They are more likely to be the victims of violent or property crime than they are to commit them, and frequently only pose a risk to themselves. Except in very rare cases, most mental illness can be effectively treated and the sufferers can live largely normal lives if they have access to the resources they need. Everyone depends on their neurotransmitters - if you can’t produce your own in the right ratios, store bought is fine.</p>
<p>Arthur's situation is due to a misunderstanding - after all, how do you think most police officers would react if a man dressed as a knight declared himself to be a king straight out of legend after he attempted to slay an innocent Volkswagon with a broadsword?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“To be perfectly honest, we were very surprised you called,” Dr. Baker said, ushering Merlin into his office and closing the door behind him. “Even more so that there was a bit of truth to his delusion - his name is <em> really </em> Arthur Pendragon?” </p>
<p>Merlin reused the lie from the night before as he sat down in the chair Dr. Baker had motioned him to in the office of the head of the Psychiatric Wing of St. George’s Hospital, about an hour and a half from his little farm. “Yeah, his parents were big fans of the legend of King Arthur.”</p>
<p>Dr. Baker nodded. “Yes, quite, apparently. He’s also been asking for ‘Merlin’ every time he wakes up from sedation, and I can only assume he means you. Merlin and Arthur… well, there’s been stranger coincidences I suppose.</p>
<p>“Sedation?” Merlin asked, sharply, concern painting his features.</p>
<p>Dr. Baker looked apologetic. “It wasn’t our first choice, but he attacked an orderly bringing him his lunch - the poor man had three broken ribs and serious concussion. Then we tried to restrain him, but he dislocated his shoulder trying to escape, and at that point it became a matter of keeping him from becoming a danger to himself or anyone else while we waited to see if anyone could identify him. </p>
<p>“I promise this isn’t a, ah, ‘Cuckoo’s Nest’ type of thing, as it were. We’re simply not equipped at this facility to handle someone with, er, violent delusions. If you hadn’t called, we’d have had to send him to a specialist facility in London for evaluation and care. We mostly handle anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder… things easily controlled and treated with talk therapy and medication.”</p>
<p>“I understand,” Merlin said, “You had to protect him and your staff. Would it be alright if I came in and sat with him for a bit?”</p>
<p>Dr. Baker nodded. "Of course. Perhaps if he sees a friendly face when he comes to, he'll calm down.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur was in a clean, functional hospital room. Wearing a blue hospital gown under the utilitarian bedclothes, he was restrained by cuffs on his wrists and ankles. His eyes were closed, and he looked peacefully asleep.</p>
<p>Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat.</p>
<p>It was him. It was really, truly him. Until he'd entered the room, a small part of him had refused to let him get his hopes up. </p>
<p>But here he was, in the reborn flesh. He didn’t look to have aged a day since Merlin had laid him to rest, and every speck of him was the same as when Merlin had last seen him, floating away to Avalon. He felt his knees begin to shake, and he quickly pulled a plastic chair over to the bedside and sat down in it, level with Arthur’s hip.</p>
<p>Dr. Baker reviewed the chart outside the door. "Great timing," he remarked. "Based on his dosing schedule, he should be waking up fairly shortly. I’ll see if we can have a meal brought up.”</p>
<p>Merlin nodded, unable to speak. He reached out a tentative hand towards Arthur's. </p>
<p>"Could-" his voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "Could we remove-" He gestured at the restraints. Dr. Baker shook his head. </p>
<p>"I am sorry - truly. But… he attacked my staff. I have an obligation to them, to keep them safe - you understand? We'll see how he reacts to seeing you, and if he seems to be a little more lucid and stable than he was yesterday evening, I’ll remove them at once.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin waited for what seemed like another thousand years for Arthur to wake up from the sedatives, although the reality, according to his watch, was maybe 25 minutes. From his chair, he had tentatively reached out to take Arthur’s sword-hand. Feeling Arthur’s skin beneath his hand - real, solid, <em> here </em> - felt like a miracle, and he felt his heart quicken in his chest.</p>
<p>He felt Arthur's fingers twitch under his hand first, then saw his eyes open a crack before closing against the harsh fluorescent lights.</p>
<p>"Merlin, close the bloody curtains," he murmured groggily, as he had countless times before, and Merlin shivered, hearing his king’s voice for the first time in centuries. The muscles in Arthur’s arm tensed as he made to throw it over his eyes, to shield them from the unexpected brightness while he woke up.</p>
<p>The movement was stopped abruptly by the restraints, Arthur's eyes flew open in sudden shock, and he began to struggle. “Release me at once!”</p>
<p>Merlin was on his feet before he could think, pressing a gentle hand to Arthur's chest.</p>
<p>"Arthur, it's me."</p>
<p>At the sound of the familiar voice, Arthur stilled and looked over at him. A look of profound relief came over his features.</p>
<p>"<em>Merlin</em>."<br/>
<br/>
Before he could even think, Merlin's eyes glowed gold. "<em>Anheald team</em>," he spoke firmly, extending a hand in the direction of Dr. Baker.</p>
<p>Time froze throughout the hospital, save for him and Arthur.</p>
<p>Arthur groaned and dropped his head back to the pillow. "Merlin. Magic. Sorcerer. Right. How could I forget?"</p>
<p>Merlin felt a lump in his throat. Right. Probably not the best idea to open with freezing time. That wasn't exactly… well, subtle. Arthur had barely come to terms with his magic before he died, and here he was controlling time when he was barely awake</p>
<p>"Well?" Arthur asked.</p>
<p>"Sorry?"</p>
<p>"Are you just going to stand there like a startled… a startled…"</p>
<p>"Stoat?" Merlin supplied, feeling the barest start of a grin.</p>
<p>"Yes, a startled stoat, exactly - or are you going to get me out of this strange prison?"</p>
<p>Merlin thought quickly.</p>
<p>"I can - but a lot has changed. It would be easiest if you played along. Here’s what you need to tell them.” </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>In the end, Arthur played his role beautifully. Dr. Baker (who had somehow missed the fifteen minutes or so that time had been stopped) was shocked as he undid Arthur’s restraints himself. "I've never seen someone recover from a dissociative fugue state quite like that. Shockingly fast, indeed. I’m very glad you called, Dr. Emrys." </p>
<p>"Could you discharge him? I'll be able to monitor him at home, I think. I'll call if there's any problems, and we'll work the thing with the car out with the police."</p>
<p>“Allow me to start getting him discharged - will you be alright here while I take care of that? If you’ve brought clothes for him with you, he can get changed. I suppose he could wear what he came in with, but…”</p>
<p>“I’ve brought clothes,” Merlin said, gesturing at the bag he’d brought. “The armor is a valuable antique though, so if we could get it back...”<br/>
“Of course! I’ll be back shortly, give me a few moments. Shouldn’t take long at all, now that we can run his NHS info.”</p>
<p>Merlin winced. Computers, right. Digital records were the absolute bane of his existence. “Of course.”</p>
<p>Fortunately, computers really didn’t like magic, and any kind of internet connection, less so. He could cause a mass outage, but the amount of technology being used in other parts of the hospital to keep people alive made that a no-go. He focused instead on visualizing the broadband lines that connected the hospital to phone and internet services. Twenty minutes ought to do it. “<em>Forebege,</em>” he cast, eyes glowing gold again.</p>
<p>“What was that one?”</p>
<p>“Intercepting the messages so they can’t communicate,” he explained, as simply as he could, before extending a hand to the man sitting on the hospital bed. “You’ve slept long enough, Cabbage-head. Up and at ‘em.”</p>
<p>To his surprise, as soon as Arthur stood up, he pulled Merlin into a crushing hug. “Thanks, Merlin.” Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur for a long moment, just glad that he was real.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin dumped the bag containing the clothes he’d brought out on a chair. </p>
<p>Arthur picked up the jeans Merlin had brought, undone the button, and then stared in confusion. “Merlin - ” </p>
<p>"It's a zipper. You sort of… here." Merlin pulled the zip down to demonstrate. "Pants first, though, he said, handing over a pair of boxer briefs. Arthur pulled them up over his hips, under the gown, then reached for the jeans.</p>
<p>"Everything is strange," he observed, moving the zip up and down, before bending to put them on. "The clothes. The light. Although I do have to say, this bed is absurdly comfortable."</p>
<p>“<em>That</em> bed?” Merlin laughed. “Just wait till you see what I’ve got at home.” Merlin tried to push the thought of shoving Arthur back against a bed out of his mind. <em>Nope. Noooope. Can’t go there, Merlin. That way lies danger.</em></p>
<p>Arthur tugged a red henley over his head. “How long did you say I was… gone?”</p>
<p>“About 1500 years, give or take a couple of decades. The world has changed a lot. I can explain more once we leave.</p>
<p>Arthur finished putting on his shoes, suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable. "I can tell. Ah, Merlin, is there… I don't see a chamber pot."</p>
<p>Merlin sighed. "We've got a thing called 'plumbing' now. Let's find a lavatory."</p>
<p>When he was finished (and had certainly not yelped when the urinal produced a loud roar when flushed), Arthur stood in front of the sink, turning the hot tap on and off. "Hot water, just like that?"</p>
<p>"Just like that."</p>
<p>"Magic?" Arthur looked at him questioningly. “In retrospect, I think I know why everyone else in the castle complained about barely-warm bathwater, and mine was always perfect.”</p>
<p>"No, just science. Use soap," Merlin directed, motioning at the dispenser.</p>
<p>"For my hands?” Arthur examined them quizzically. “They're not dirty."</p>
<p>"While you were… away, we figured out what causes a lot of diseases. Tiny sorts of creatures on your skin, too small to see. Soap kills them, gets them off of you, so you don't get sick."</p>
<p>"It's that simple?"</p>
<p>"Not always, but for a lot of things, yeah. It’s basic hygiene now. And for a lot of other things, we have cures. Remember the plague? Turns out you can cure it now - they made a medicine out of some kind of mold.”</p>
<p>"Sounds like one of Gaius's awful potions."</p>
<p>Merlin felt a pang of grief as he thought of his old mentor.</p>
<p>"Let's go home, Arthur."<br/>
<br/>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, all dressed, I see,” Dr. Baker came back in with some papers. “Absolutely unbelievable, can you believe that the phones and internet went down right as soon as I needed them? I had to fill out Mr. Pendragon’s paperwork by hand. Might as well be the Dark Ages.”</p>
<p>Dr. Baker handed the paperwork to Arthur. “There’s some instructions for caring for your shoulder in there. Take some paracetamol if it starts hurting you, and I included some stretches to help with the range of motion.” </p>
<p>Arthur nodded, gamely. “Of course, thank you Doctor. Please give my apologies to the ser- to the orderly I injured, I wasn’t in my right mind.”</p>
<p>Dr. Baker waved a hand dismissively. “Water under the bridge! I’ll let him know for you, however. Take care, Mr. Pendragon. You seem to be in very good hands”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OK, this might be random quarantine-fueled fanfiction, but it’ll be at least SOMEWHAT ACCURATE quarantine-fueled fanfiction. I really enjoy doing research, so if there's something I spent more than five seconds Googling that I referenced, I'll probably note it down here (at least partially for my own reference, since I have the attention span and short-term memory of a dry-erase marker).</p>
<p>Spells Used:<br/>- Anheald team - “Hold time”, at least according to this Old English translator (https://www.oldenglishtranslator.co.uk/)<br/>- Forebege - “Intercept” according to the same. </p>
<p>I speak American English and some (truly bad and stilted) Spanish. Old English isn't quite in my wheelhouse. I'M TRYING.</p>
<p>Other Random Facts:</p>
<p>Bubonic Plague, caused by the bacterium Yersinia pestis, has been endemic in parts of Europe and the Mediterranean since roughly 3000 BC - the Plague of Justinian in the 500s CE, roughly around when the legend of King Arthur is commonly thought to date, is one such example. While the famous “Black Death” pandemic didn’t occur until the 1300s, and I don’t remember plague being mentioned specifically on the show (see above, re: dry-erase marker), it’s likely that Arthur and Merlin at least knew OF it, especially given Merlin’s surrogate father was the court physician.<br/>These days, it’s easily treated with antibiotics, and there’s maybe a couple thousand worldwide cases each year.</p>
<p>Penicillin isn’t typically used these days for plague, since more effective alternatives exist, and it is no longer naturally derived from peniciullum mold, so I did take some creative license there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Homecoming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait - life got away from me a bit this week!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When they walked out into the car park, Merlin lugging Arthur’s armor and maille (they'd have to retrieve Excalibur from the police later) Arthur pointed at the cars. "Those - one of those attacked me when I woke up."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's a car. It's what we use instead of horses now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin's blue Prius chirped as he approached it, digging the fob from his pocket. He opened the boot and unceremoniously tossed Arthur's armor inside, then crossed to the passenger door and held it open, offering a mock bow. "Your chariot awaits, my liege."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes and got in, and Merlin crossed over to the driver's side, hopped in, and put his seatbelt on. "You need that," he said pointing at Arthur's. Arthur mimicked Merlin's motions in mirror image and buckled it. "Why?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"These things go a lot faster than a horse at full gallop, and a lot of people who shouldn't have them do anyway."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As it turned out, Arthur had difficulty with the new speed of travel - it was quite a bit faster than his fastest horse could have managed with a rider. After noticing Arthur's white-knucked fists on his lap, and the oddly greenish tint his complexion had taken on, Merlin had slowed down to a more sedate 45 from the 100 the speed limit was posted at, and turned his four-way flashers on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I forgot," he said, "The world sped up a lot. I've had time to adapt but you-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I woke up in a completely foreign land, and can't recognize my own home." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, Arthur. It's a lot to take in."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Camelot, is it- is that where we're going?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's gone, Arthur. Gwen became Queen Regent when you… when you died. She lived to be quite old, nearly 80 summers, but in the end, the Saxons invaded and Camelot - and the rest of the five kingdoms - were destroyed."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You couldn’t -” Arthur made a motion with his right hand, wiggling his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even magic can only do so much, Arthur.” Merlin swallowed, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “I’ll gladly answer every question you have once we’re home and you’ve rested - no secrets anymore, Arthur. I said it on your last day, and I meant it - everything </span>
  <span>I’ve done, everything has been for you, Arthur. Only for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Arthur told him, softly, and rested a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “If I could have only one thing from my old life back, Merlin, I’m glad it was you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin smiled in spite of himself, feeling his heart quicken in his chest again. If he were braver, he’d have reached his right hand across his chest and covered Arthur’s with his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he settled for saying, “Shouldn’t be long now, look, that’s our turning.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Here we are, then." Merlin pulled up outside the stone farmhouse. Arthur stared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Were you granted land and a title at some point?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, but I've been rather clever with my finances, if I do say so, and you wouldn’t believe how much one can squirrel away if they’ve had centuries to do it," Merlin stated, getting out of the car, then leaning back in to point at Arthur’s buckle. "Push the little red button in, then pull that handle on the door out." He heard the click of Arthur's seat belt, and the door opened, releasing his king.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's a far cry from your squalid little room of Gaius's chambers, that's for sure."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It was only 'squalid' because I had to spend all of my time and energy cleaning your chambers."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin moved to the front door and unlocked it. Struck with a thought, he aimed the car remote over his shoulder and hit the lock button. The Prius beeped, and Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sorry," Merlin grinned, holding up the remote. "Couldn't resist."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur cracked a genuine smile at that, the first Merlin had seen since Arthur had first laid eyes on him that morning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once inside, Arthur wandered around, marveling at everything. Light switches fascinated him, and as Merlin set about making supper, he found himself periodically plunged into darkness, and conjured a bright blue orb so he wouldn't cut off a finger if Arthur flipped a switch at an inopportune moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard Arthur enter the kitchen behind him. "What are you doing?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Cooking dinner. I wasn't exactly expecting company. I just got home last night."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Home from where?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I wrote a book, and they want you to go around to help sell it these days. I did a two-week trip going to shops and talking about it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You wrote a book?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Anyone can these days. There's this bloke on the internet who writes romance novels about dinosaurs."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stared at him dumbly. "Sorry, what?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin remembered, a hair too late, that Arthur knew nothing about dinosaurs, let alone the internet. "That's a topic for… later, I think. Do me a favor, can you get me a tin of pepper from that cupboard there?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"An estate this size should have servants," Arthur grumbled, but did as he was told and opened the spice cabinet. "And no wonder you don't! You've spent your fortune on spices!" Arthur dug through the cabinet. "How much did this much cinnamon cost you?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"About 2 quid," Merlin said. "Spices are cheap, now, and you wouldn’t believe some of what’s around these days. We’ll have to do Indian or Thai takeaway one of these days, you’ll be in for a treat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set a beef stew to simmering - he figured he should stick with something familiar for Arthur's first meal at home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Let's get you to your room," he said. "I can make up one of the other bedrooms if you want, but I thought you might prefer something more familiar." He ushered Arthur up the stairs and into the second bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The few concessions to modernity in the room were the electricity and the plumbing in the ensuite. Everything else was familiar, even the wood-burning fireplace in the corner. Merlin left the lights off for now, and waved a hand to light the candles and the fireplace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur sat down heavily at the foot of the bed, overcome. "You made me a piece of Camelot for when I returned?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"As close as I could. A few changes - if you go through that door, there's a loo with plumbing, and there’s electric lights if you prefer them. And one of those memory foam things I mentioned, the mattress. Modern attire in the wardrobes." Despite the fact that he’d refused to let himself believe Arthur would ever come back, he’d also gone shopping for clothes in Arthur’s sizes every few decades… just in case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't mention that the idea had come to him when he scryed into the past through a mirror, watching Arthur pace in his rooms centuries before, memorizing the set of his jaw and the summer-wheat color of his hair, missing him so badly that his chest physically ached for longing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur sniffed himself and wrinkled his nose. "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> use a bath."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll show you how it works. There's showers, too now."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fascinated by the shower, Arthur chose that instead, and insisted Merlin stay with him while he showered. "It feels like a hot, heavy rain," Arthur called over the spray. "It's wonderful!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin was perched on the edge of the counter. “Makes bathing much easier, though a good soak now and again is still nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin envied Arthur the wondrous parts of waking up in a modern world, where lights turned on with the flick of a switch, hot water with the turn of a lever, and a journey that would have taken them several hours by horse took about ninety minutes by car, even if he’d had to go a bit slower to accommodate Arthur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was trying to figure out how to go about getting Arthur caught up on the last 1500 some-odd years, and had vaguely decided that he’d let Arthur direct that curriculum. History was important, but the 21st century was immediate, and Arthur would need to get his bearings there very quickly to fit in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least whatever force had resurrected him had imparted the modern vernacular somehow, or he’d have had a hell of a time breaking Arthur out of that hospital. He wondered what the staff had thought when every record of Arthur had mysteriously been </span>
  <span>blanked out the second they left the car park, and if they’d managed to sort out whatever had glitched out the security cameras yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He averted his eyes from the distorted shape on the other side of the frosted glass door. It had been hard enough undressing Arthur as he'd used to. The smooth glide of the zipper was somehow more sensual than fumbling with a set of ties, and when his fingers brushed Arthur’s ribs as he pulled the shirt up and over his head, he’d felt his heart speed up again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thinking about it sent a jolt of electricity down his spine to settle low in his abdomen. If he stayed here much longer, with the object of centuries worth of pining directly in front of him, completely naked, on the other side of a glass door, he'd have trouble hiding his… affections. Whenever, that is, Arthur, who surely had to be clean by now, finished draining the hot water heater and discovered that even modern conveniences had their limits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I've got to check on dinner," he said abruptly, "will you be alright if I go upstairs?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Go ahead," Arthur replied, sounding cheerful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What does one wear for dinner in this strange time?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Clothes, you complete dollophead, what d’you thi-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice momentarily left him as he turned. Arthur was standing there at the door to the kitchen, one dark red towel tied low - </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost obscenely low</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a tiny voice in Merlin’s head informed him, slyly - around his hips, while he idly rubbed the back of his hair with another one, making the wet blond strands stick up at odd angles. His skin was pink from what had likely been a nearly scalding hot shower and Merlin had to fight the instinct to follow the rivulet of water that had dripped over Arthur's collarbone, across the planes of his chest, and traced the muscles of his stomach down into the towel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He'd forgotten how difficult it was just being near Arthur sometimes. Especially like this, a moment of strange intimacy and vulnerability, similar to many of the moments they'd shared before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Uh, clothes. Whatever you want, really. I'm wearing this," he said, gesturing at his jeans and t-shirt, the jumper he'd worn to the hospital tossed over the back of a chair. "No one really changes for dinner anymore unless they’re really filthy or something - at least, not at home."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded, turned, and left the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. It felt strange, Arthur being there after so long - and looking to Merlin for guidance on so simple a subject as to what to wear to dinner in this new age.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set his round dining table. It wasn't huge - it could comfortably seat only four. Six if they were friendly. But it was solid wood, and round. He'd had it for a few centuries now. There was elegant knotwork carved around the edges, and if he squinted he could almost pretend it was the round table at Camelot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was setting down a loaf of bread he'd baked the night before, unable to sleep, when he heard the floorboards creak behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Trust you to never be late for dinner," Merlin chirped, turning around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur had chosen to put his (very flattering, if Merlin was being honest) dark jeans back on, with a dark red button up, the sleeves rolled up past his muscular forearms. "You picked a lot of reds in my wardrobe," he commented, with a raised eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin thought back and realized that he had. He’d always thought Arthur had looked best in red, and blamed his subconscious for informing his latest shopping trip in London. "Did I? I guess it's just a color I associated with you - Pendragon red, you know. Go on, sit down. I'll be in shortly."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he came back with two steaming bowls of stew, he saw Arthur squinting at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. "The lights are always so bright now. It'll take some getting used to. What did you say they were?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Electricity. Same stuff that makes lightning, just… we found ways to make it ourselves. I've done a lot of studying, never quite got the hang of electrical engineering. If it’s bothering you, though -” Merlin clicked off the lights and waved a hand. A trio of silver candlesticks floated over from a cabinet on the sideboard, lighting themselves as they landed gently on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just showing off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin scoffed, taking his own seat. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>stopped time </span>
  </em>
  <span>not six hours ago. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was showing off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur took a generous spoonful of stew. "Well, either the spices you use now are better or your cooking has improved."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin laughed. "Probably a bit of both. I've had lots of time to practice."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What have you been doing all these years?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Other than waiting for your lazy arse to wake up? I read, I studied. Tried to stay out of the way. Got my medical degree a few times. Pain in the ass, though, since it’s changing all the time. I traveled, though never for long. I never wanted to be too far from the lake. Kept to myself, mostly. If I don't, people tend to notice the guy who never seems to age, and aging spells get irritating to maintain for too long."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What have you been doing lately?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Currently, I'm an expert in archeology and medieval history with a specialty in Arthurian myth. I've managed to prove you existed, which blew my competition out of the water. But… I had something of an unfair advantage having been there."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"People didn't know I existed?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin chewed thoughtfully. "Not exactly. They knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>of</span>
  </em>
  <span> you - they just thought they were stories and tales, not truth. King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Guenivere the Gentle. Merlin the Wizard. But there weren't any records, because they'd burned when Camelot was sacked by the Saxons. No tomb, because I sent you to Avalon. No sign of Guenivere, Gwaine, or the others. No castle Camelot, since the Saxons, several centuries of upheaval, and the ravages of time reduced it to rubble.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But people remembered </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Arthur. You became a legend that's lasted 1500 years. You're known as having been fair, just, kind and loyal. They talked about you, believed in you. Like I do."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He met Arthur's eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't know why you've come back now, Arthur. But you were my best and truest friend, and I'm glad you're back."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After dinner was cleaned up, it was late, and Merlin was about ready to fall into bed fully clothed. But there was still more education to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This is a toothbrush," he explained, handing it over. "This is toothpaste.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin took his own toothbrush and demonstrated proper technique, spitting the paste out in the sink. "Oh, when you're done - don't swallow. Spit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur raised an eyebrow, and mimicked Merlin, spitting out the toothpaste. "Finally learned to walk on your knees, did you?" he asked, with his usual crooked grin and a trace </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s breath hitched, and he choked on his own saliva. Arthur thumped him hard on the back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You're more than capable of undressing yourself, you know," Merlin sighed. "Modern clothes have zippers and buttons - you don't have the excuse of laced doublets and breeches anymore."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes. "Still the worst servant ever. In 1500 years, you never got better at that?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin threw the flannel pyjama pants at his head. "I'm so sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sire</span>
  </em>
  <span>, shall I turn down your kingly bedclothes so you can get your beauty rest and wake up less like a toad?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur pulled the pants over his hips, but declined a shirt, burrowing under the covers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What is this?" He groaned, feeling the mattress cradle him. "This is the most comfortable I've been in my life."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Told you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I might not wake up."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'd rather you did, eventually. Besides, Gwaine is bloody noisy in the morning."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Gwaine?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Rooster.” Merlin shrugged. “It seemed to fit. Cocky bastard."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. History Lessons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay - I had a shift change so my day off moved and my wrists have been a bit sore from typing at work.  I had this written and it needed editing and polishing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur was laying in bed - in the most comfortable bed he'd ever been in, ever - and he couldn't sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind kept turning it over and over. Merlin had poured his heart out, put Arthur to rest, and then… waited. Never aging, never dying. For 15 centuries. Watching the world change around him, and changing with it. </span>
</p><p><span>Merlin had the same youthful features that Arthur remembered, for the most part. His hair was a little longer now, and if anything he’d seemed to grow into his long, gangly limbs at some point. He was still skinny as a rail, but Arthur could see where centuries of God-knows-what had filled him out some, and put some muscle on his boney limbs. </span><span><br/></span> <em><span>Frankly, not a bad look on him. A pretty good look, in fact.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>His eyes had changed, though. They were still the blue Arthur remembered, but there was a sadness behind them now, and even when he smiled it never quite filled his eyes with the innocent mirth that always seemed to bubble out of Merlin wherever he went.. </span>
</p><p><em><span>Did he ever take a wife? Lovers? Did he make friends, that funny, fast way that he did, and then bury a tiny piece of his heart with them when they died? </span></em><span>Merlin had avoided talking about his personal past. Arthur couldn’t be sure which would break his heart more - if Merlin had spent his time in a living purgatory alone, or if he’d had to grieve loved ones whenever they moved on, and he didn’t.</span><em><span><br/></span></em> <span>Arthur rolled over and closed his eyes again.</span></p><p>
  <span>He just couldn’t sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chalking it up to whatever concoction he’d received at the ‘hospital’, as Merlin had called it, he sat up and flipped on the lamp at his bedside. Forcing sleep was pointless, and he’d slept for quite awhile already. There had to be something he could do to occupy himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swung his feet to the floor, stood up, and stretched. He’d seen a lot of books downstairs. Maybe he could start reading about this world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crept down the stairs, silent as a cat, and, after a moment’s blind fumbling near the kitchen door, flipped the light switch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was great, honestly - very convenient. No stumbling around looking for a flint to light a candle. Just follow the wall until you find the little switch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He perused Merlin’s overstuffed bookshelves. Merlin had apparently accumulated a lot of books even recently - those had bright paper covers and clear easy-to-read text, although he found himself missing Geoffrey of Monmouth’s illuminated, leather-bound tomes. He looked for anything containing the word “history” and set a pile on a table in front of an extremely comfortable-looking gray couch. He propped himself up on some pillows and started to get caught up</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little after a stately clock in the corner had chimed 2 am, Arthur turned a page in </span>
  <em>
    <span>A History of World War I: The Great War in Context</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and nearly jumped out of his skin. There was a life-like picture (he’d already made a note to ask Merlin about those - they could hardly be drawn portraits) of several young men in what he now recognized as the military uniform of the time. They had clearly been posed for this picture, a group of them standing, and some sitting down in front. One boy standing at the far right of the back row had ears that Arthur would have known anywhere.</span>
</p><p><span>Small text below the photo read,</span><em><span> Royal Army Medical Corps, 85th Field Ambulance, shortly before leaving for Ypres, France. Back Row-</span></em><span> Arthur skimmed the list until he came to the end of the back row. “</span><em><span>2Lt. Oliver Albion</span></em><span>.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>He continued reading about what sounded like a truly terrible battle, far beyond any he’d participated in, then skimmed the rest of the book before carefully marking the page with the photograph on it with a little scrap of paper, and picking up another.</span></p><p> </p><hr/><p><span><br/></span> <span>Which is where Merlin found him at a little past seven when he stumbled downstairs. Arthur had, at some point, fallen asleep. His head was tilted back and he was snoring, a book on the Battle of Britain open against his bare chest.</span><span><br/></span> <span>Merlin enjoyed the view for a few moments, then threw the heavy drapes across the front window open, flooding the room with sunshine. “Let’s have you, lazy daisy!” he called cheerfully.</span><span><br/></span></p><p>
  <span>Arthur groaned. “‘s too early. I was dead two days ago. Can’t I have a lie-in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a lie in for centuries, while some of us had to work,” Merlin said, picking the book up and slipping a bookmark in between the pages. “I see you picked up a little light reading last night. If you were having trouble sleeping, you should have come and got me. We’ve got medicines for that now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured I could at least try to get caught up. I didn’t really read most of them in-depth, just skimmed over some of the highlights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin caught sight of a book with a bright, rainbow striped cover towards the bottom of Arthur’s pile. “Learn anything... interesting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur shrugged. “World’s gotten bigger, faster. Hasn’t really changed much, really. The ‘Great War’ was a little tough to follow, all those treaties -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin gave a little bitter laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were there,” Arthur said, simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin looked startled. “Yes. How’d y-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur handed him the book he’d set aside, the page marked with a scrap of paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin took it from him, frowning at the photo. “I forgot they took this - we left barely a day later for France. It must have been archived somewhere. I had no idea it was in here. I just picked up a lot of history books over the years, for you.” He swallowed, hard. “The battle - Arthur, you couldn’t have imagined it. Not in your worst nightmares.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I read. Medical Corps - you were a doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A surgeon. Although it wasn’t really surgery. It was getting as many people as we could just barely fixed enough to make it to a real hospital.” Merlin looked close to tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you save anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some. Not enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those men had a chance to live because you were there, Merlin. You can’t save everyone. You know that better than anyone.” Arthur again laid a comforting hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I’m here if you need someone to listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you and what did you do with Arthur?” Merlin said with a small, trembling laugh, wiping his face on his sleeve. “You hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starving, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, then. It is you. I can do a fry up, but I’ll have to go out for the eggs. If you feel like lending a hand, you can fend Gwaine off with a broom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwaine turned out to be a bold rooster with shiny orange and black feathers and a puffed up chest, who took his defense of the four hens in the coop extremely seriously. Arthur’s job was to use the broom to block him from getting at Merlin while he ducked in to retrieve the eggs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping I’d eventually get some chicks and could get more of a flock,” Merlin called over his shoulder, “But the bloody bastard isn’t interested in any of the hens. He exists purely to irritate me, and if he’s not careful, I’ll be eating him for dinner one of these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur gently swept the bird to one side, and he squawked in irritation and ruffled his feathers, as if trying to shake some of the dirt out. “Aptly named, then. Gwaine really only had eyes for Percival in the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin stood up so fast he cracked his head on the ceiling of the coop. “Bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>ow</span>
  </em>
  <span> - you knew about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur rolled his eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin, they were my knights. It was my job to know. Besides, they weren't exactly subtle on a good day, and they were a bit hard to miss when we were out on patrol. You know as well as I do those tents did nothing for sound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I remember. Your snoring kept up half the camp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Gwaine and Percival kept the other half awake,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you managed to sleep through that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… you never said a word!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was it I told you once, Merlin? ‘What a man does in his spare time is completely up to him’? Gwaine and Percival never mentioned it to me directly. I certainly wasn’t going to embarrass them by bringing it up if they didn’t wish to discuss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin stared. “That’s… I mean, looking back from a modern perspective, rather open-minded of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur shrugged. “There’s little enough joy and love in the world sometimes, Merlin. Let people find it where they can." He gently redirected Gwaine with the broom again. "Are you about done with the eggs? This bloody rooster is getting on my nerves."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Question for y'alls: do you think Arthur prefers tea or coffee?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Coffee and Conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Since I’ve exhausted everything I had prewritten already, I’ve been percolating (no pun intended) this chapter for a few days. I’m one of those weird black coffee folks (super sweet fancy Starbucks concoctions definitely have their place, but to wake me up there’s nothing like a good strong black coffee) who will maybe add milk if they’re in a rush.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Arthur held the door for Merlin as they headed back inside. “Thank you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sire</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Merlin said, dipping into a mocking curtsy as Arthur pulled it shut behind them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin grinned and set the basket of eggs down on the counter. He busied himself with making coffee. He was normally a tea person, himself, but sometimes he really loved the extra little zing that a hot cup of coffee could bring to a morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Arthur asked, having seated himself at the kitchen island.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re in for a treat. You’ll see in a few minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rinsing the eggs in the sink, Merlin busied himself over the stove until a high-pitched beep indicated that the life-giving potion was complete. He quickly poured it into the first mug he grabbed - it was hot pink, and featured a stylized cartoon of an angry-looking cat with the caption, “Leave MEOW-lone”. “I take mine with cream and sugar, personally,” Merlin explained, putting the mug down in front of Arthur. “But try it first and see what you think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur took a dubious look at the irritated feline and the goofy caption on his excessively-pink mug, and tentatively sniffed the dark liquid inside. It had a strong, but not unpleasant, aroma. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coffee. Seriously, just try it.” Merlin placed a bowl of sugar and a carton of half-and-half down on the island as well before returning to the stove.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur blew gently on the steaming fluid before taking a cautious sip. It was slightly bitter, but had a nutty, earthy, almost sweet flavor and a lingering taste that he couldn’t quite describe. He looked at the things Merlin had placed on the table and added just a little bit of the cream before taking another sip. “It’s good,” he declared. “I like that. You said it’s called coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. It tastes good, and it’ll wake you right up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is… this the traditional cup for this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looked at the grouchy cat and laughed. “Mugs definitely are. They don’t all look like that, though. The woman that helped me sell my book got me that as a gift after a late night of arguing with the person who helped me polish the writing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the first time that Merlin had mentioned a person from his modern life, and Arthur grabbed onto it like a dog with a bone, eager for whatever threads of information he could draw forth. “This woman, are you… close?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With Leslie? Not really - it’s a professional relationship, but maybe we started to become friends while I was working on the book.” Merlin shrugged. “I like her well enough, but we’re not really close, no. I’ve really only seen her once and twice. Mostly we worked together over the phone. A phone is a… long distance method of communicating,” he explained, anticipating Arthur’s confusion. “It uses electricity and invisible waves to let you communicate with people far away. I can show you later. Leslie works from London, usually, so it’s a little under two hours away by car. I don’t head into the city that often, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Disappointed, Arthur gazed into his coffee mug for a minute, listening to the sizzle of things in the pan and hearing Merlin humming tunelessly as he cooked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Merlin-” he started, before cutting himself off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Merlin said, turning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never mind,” Arthur replied, with a smile he didn’t really feel. “Forget I said anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin frowned. “Arthur, what’s the matter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing, really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ar</span>
  </em>
  <span>thur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin sighed. “I told you - anything you want to know, just ask. I’m an open book. No more secrets.” With a vague gesture at the stove behind him, his eyes flashed gold. Arthur felt a brief shiver pass down his spine as the air seemed to crackle around him and a faint whiff of something like lightning passed through the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Breakfast continued preparing itself as Merlin walked over and sat down next to Arthur at the island with his own mug of coffee, which he immediately started spooning sugar into. “What’s bothering you?  And make it quick. I’ve never got the hang of eggs with the magic, so they’ll be rubbery unless I get back over there soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was silent for a moment, staring at the cat on his mug, before looking up and finding Merlin’s bright blue eyes staring into his with concern. “Look, it’s nothing. It’s not my place to pry into your life. I’ve just dropped back into it all of a sudden, and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin interrupted him, his voice suddenly lower and surprisingly commanding in a way that Arthur desperately tried to tell himself he didn’t find extremely attractive. “Arthur, tell me what’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you- were you just alone all this time?” Arthur finally blurted out, the question that had troubled him the night before erupting from him before he could quite stop it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin stared. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what’s been bothering you? You… you </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>, came back, what, two days ago? Got held against your will at a hospital because they thought you were mad, nearly threw up in my car, find out that everything you knew and cared about has been gone for centuries and you’re worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my social life</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not everything,” Arthur murmured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> I cared about is gone,” Arthur replied, the statement coming out a lot louder and more forcefully than he’d intended. “You’re still here, and thank heaven for that, since even though you’ve always been a useless servant, you’re my best friend and I’d be completely fucking lost without you.” He took a breath, meeting Merlin’s shocked gaze again. “So yes, I’m worried about your ‘social life’ because I care about you and the thought of you alone and unhappy is </span>
  <em>
    <span>devastating</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If I've got time, I'll get a little more typed out later. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Take a Hike</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin was completely speechless, and could only really stare at Arthur, who was determinedly avoiding eye contact.</p><p>“Arthur…” Merlin looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, thinking.</p><p>“No, sorry. I didn’t intend- I don’t want to pry. Forget I even said anything.”</p><p>Merlin sighed. “Open book, remember?” He sipped his coffee, thinking. “Tell you what. Let’s have breakfast, get dressed and then we can take a walk, and talk about whatever you like.” He stood, stretching, and could have sworn Arthur's eyes flicked, for a fraction of a second, down to the pale crescent of exposed skin above the waistband of his pajama pants before returning to his. He returned to the eggs in the pan. “Just in time. Another few moments and they’d have been inedible.” </p><p>Merlin wasn’t partial to beans first thing in the morning, but the rest was there. “Don’t get used to this,” he warned, watching Arthur take an enormous bite of bacon. “Cold cereal or oatmeal usually suits me most of the time.”</p><p>“You really have gotten to be a better cook,” Arthur told him between bites. “Although, I think you’re right about the eggs.” He swallowed and took another swig of his coffee. “You don’t really seem to use your magic much.”</p><p>“Habit,” Merlin explained. “Uther wasn’t the only one with a prejudice there - you’d be a bit shocked just how popular executing magic users has been over the centuries. I ended up hiding it most of my life. It’s gotten weaker, with time, like it’s fading from the world. It’s why I don’t really like going into big cities. It’s all concrete and steel - it’s like walking around with my hands over my ears. Disorienting after awhile.</p><p>“These days, most people think it’s fiction - something you see in books or movies. I try not to use it in front of people. On the rare occasions I do, they usually chalk it up to something else. People don’t believe in it, so they really don’t see it.<br/>“Except children. But if they say they see magic, no one believes them. It gets chalked up to imagination or some strange bloke doing some slight-of-hand.” He grinned. “Honestly, it was much harder with you. You not only knew about magic, but were constantly on the lookout for it.”</p><p>Arthur cracked a smile of his own. “Well, hiding it behind sheer incompetence, ineptitude, and insolence helped, I think. Plus, what kind of all-powerful wizard would have willingly washed my socks?”</p><p>“Oh, I definitely used magic for that,” Merlin told him, pretending to gag.</p><p>“Can I see something?” Arthur asked. </p><p>“Some magic?”</p><p>“Yeah. I only really saw it that- that last day.”</p><p>Merlin thought for a moment, then spoke, extending his hand towards Arthur’s coffee as his eyes flashed golden. “<em> Draca fram dism </em>”</p><p>The steam rising from the mug shimmered a moment, then formed a small white dragon that flew lazy circles around them, puffing more steam from its nostrils as it swooped and dove between them. Arthur raised his hand towards it, and it lighted on his outstretched fingers for a moment, before the steam faded into the air, taking the dragon with it.</p><p>“Do your eyes always do that… thing? Turn gold?”</p><p>“Yeah. I thought you’d spotted me that day in the market, right after we met. I wasn’t exactly subtle.”</p><p>“If I noticed it, I probably chalked it up to the sun, or a reflection off something elsewhere,” Arthur shrugged, “Honestly, I don’t remember much of that day, aside from you being equal parts brave and stupid.”</p><p>"Careful, I'll start thinking you like me."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After breakfast, Merlín and Arthur got dressed, and Merlin led them to a small walking path in the nearby woods. Arthur had picked another pair of jeans, with a dark gray henley, and Merlin was glad to be up ahead, since he'd discovered to a mixture of enjoyment and dismay that Arthur filled out a modern pair of jeans exceptionally well, and it was taking a lot of willpower not to stare.</p><p>“So… what did you want to know?”</p><p>“Everything,” Arthur told him. “Where you went, what you did.” <em> Who you loved </em> went unsaid.</p><p>So as they walked, Merlin started talking, starting with his time as Court Sorcerer to Gwen. Arthur asked a lot of questions about his wife, his surviving knights.<br/>“Did she ever remarry?”</p><p>“No,” Merlin said. “The council wanted her to, but she said she couldn’t marry except for love, and she never had time to find true love.”</p><p>“I’d have wanted her to,” Arthur told him, sincerely.</p><p>“She cared for you, and she missed you, but it wasn’t out of any kind of specific loyalty to you - at least, I don't think so. She had lovers, consorts from time-to-time, but she refused to marry any of them. She said she hadn’t fallen in real love with any of them, so there was no point.” </p><p>“I was never sure it was true love with us, either,” Arthur confessed, after a beat. “I always wondered if we just grew out of it or something. I cared for her, certainly, but if I’m being totally honest with myself, that spark always seemed to be missing. We were friends, and I was hurt when she kissed Lancelot but… it was less that she’d done it, and more that she’d not felt she could be honest with me about her feelings.”</p><p>Merlin relaxed a little. “She said something pretty similar to me once. She told me she always valued your friendship and your loyalty, but your courtship felt forced, like you were both just trying too hard to make it work. I always wondered if Lancelot was really her true love, and it ended up being just duty with the both of you in the end.”</p><p>Arthur smiled. “I feel a little less guilty about it now, in that case. I felt like I was letting her down somehow. What about you, though? Did you ever settle down, have a brood of Merlins and Merlette’s running around?” He tried to make the question sound casual, and felt like he’d failed.<br/>To his surprise, he saw Merlin’s cheeks flush, as if with embarrassment. </p><p>"Ah. Yes. That. So… I guess there’s a couple of things I have to explain. We were talking about Gwaine and Percival earlier, right? Well, Gwaine would be considered bisexual in today’s world - male, female, it never really mattered to him as long as they were gorgeous and interested.”</p><p>“Right,” Arthur said, confused, “I’d figured that much out within two weeks of meeting him.”</p><p>“It’s not as though ‘subtle’ was ever one of his attributes, yeah?” Merlin quirked an eyebrow and turned to look at Arthur. “Okay. Percival, though, preferred men, exclusively. He’s what we’d call homosexual, or gay, in today’s terms. When I said that you had a surprisingly modern perspective on Gwaine and Perce’s relationship earlier, I wasn’t kidding. Not everyone is so open-minded as you. It’s much more acceptable these days - two men or two women can even marry now - but that’s still pretty recent, and even then you'll get the occasional lunatic that will scream at you about going to hell.”</p><p>He looked at Arthur, and could see him putting the puzzle pieces together, slowly.</p><p>“And you…”</p><p>“I prefer the company of men,” Merlin admitted slowly, avoiding eye contact. “It wasn’t really acceptable back then, and I was always busy running after you and preventing your brutal murder, so…" he shrugged. "Can't say I ever really had time for a relationship, in any case."</p><p>“No girls ever?”</p><p>"Well. There was one. We kissed, but nothing else. I liked her, but, not like… that, it turned out. No 'spark', as you said."</p><p>"So… Will? Your relationship did seem a little intense, now that I think about it." </p><p>"You know, you're much more observant than I give you credit for, sometimes. Yeah. We fooled around some, when I lived in Ealdor. I think he was just using me to get off, honestly. Things always seemed a bit… ah, one-sided.”</p><p>"I'm sorry. If that's the case, it wasn't fair to you. You deserved better," Arthur told him, and Merlin realized he was completely sincere.</p><p>"I mean, don't get me wrong. I still had my share of fun."</p><p>Arthur desperately wanted to know what Merlin meant by that, and felt his cheeks grow warm as his mind's eye supplied some useful imagery that he in no way, shape or form whatsoever intended to explore later, even if Merlin's full lips really <em> would </em> look completely sinful, spit-shiny and wrapped around-</p><p>"So, yeah. I was married for a little while in the… fourteenth century? A nobleman’s son got a girl - Martha, her name was - pregnant and refused to acknowledge his bastard or pay her a dowry so she could find a good husband despite her condition. I offered to marry her but it wasn’t… quite what you’re thinking. The slimy bastard accused her of witchcraft and using love potions, and was publicly crying for her to be arrested and put to death."</p><p>Arthur realized immediately. "You married her to protect her."</p><p>"Yes. Once she was safely married off and quiet, he dropped his accusations. I made sure that she - and her son - were cared for. We never, well, consummated the marriage. We were friends, and I doted on her son. James." Merlin sighed. "Martha was kind - reminded me a bit of my mother, and James - he loved to draw. I was working as a physician at the time, and when James was 11 or 12 I was called away to another village to assist with an illness - cholera, I think. When I returned home a few weeks later, they were gone. A fever of some sort - no one had sent word. I found out from the baker when I came home to an empty house."<br/><br/>"I'm sorry, Merlin."</p><p>"Yeah. Thanks. It was never romantic, but Martha and I were close. I trained her as a midwife, she loved helping deliver children. And I loved James as if he were my own. He'd have been a gifted artist someday." He took a breath, thinking on how to phrase the next bit so it was both honest as promised, but managed to obscure the truth. "I never married again. I had lovers - male lovers - from time to time. But nothing really serious, I never really fell in love after you died."</p><p>Merlin thought back on some of those trysts, nights when his hand, his imagination, and even his magic couldn't soothe that aching need, that hole in his heart that belonged, and always would belong, to Arthur. He'd find a tavern, find a man with similar interests, according to whatever the hidden shorthand was at the time, and spend a few brief hours distracting himself from reality. More the better if his evening's company happened to have wheat-colored hair, sky-blue eyes, and a face that could pass for a distant cousin of Arthur's if he was drunk enough and the lights were dim. </p><p>They walked along together in silence for a few moments, Arthur clearly mulling over what Merlin had told him. Merlin felt a little embarrassed. He couldn’t remember ever discussing his sex life with Arthur before. It had always seemed to be something that they’d both decided, by mutual unspoken agreement, not to discuss. If Arthur had heard Merlin behind the stables or at the back of the armory, when Merlin had been balls deep in or bent over by some visiting knight or squire, he’d never mentioned it, and Merlin had never teased his king about the occasional soiled sheets or breeches, despite the temptation to do so, and maintained the discretion expected of a servant in that sole regard.</p><p>They’d crossed a boundary, here, he realized, and he wondered why now.</p><p>"What about now?" Arthur asked.</p><p>"Well, I got so offended by a retelling of your history that I felt compelled to write a book about it," he joked. "I dunno. About 15 years ago, it came time for me to reinvent myself once again, and for some reason it felt like time to just be Merlin." He shrugged. "So I did. I turned into Merlin again. 'Inherited' all of my wealth, from myself of course, and bought this little spot. Bloody dragon would be pissed, I got cheeky with it. I had to name the little road, so I went with Albion Estate."</p><p>"Ah, yes. The prophecy. I was supposed to come back at a time of Albion's greatest need to defeat some great evil. Well, check that one off the list, I defeated the blasted chicken this morning." Arthur swung an invisible sword through the air, pantomiming a killing blow.</p><p>Merlin laughed at that, and Arthur felt a sense of pride as the laughter bubbled out of his friend like a fountain of pure joy, knowing that he could still make Merlin truly laugh. His head was thrown back, exposing a long expanse of pale neck that Arthur still wasn't used to seeing without one of those silly neckerchiefs.</p><p>"Ah, yes. Imagine if the Druids knew that the Once and Future King's true destiny was to run off to a farm in Wales and chase a rooster off with a broom." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, still laughing, his wide grin making Arthur's heart do a funny somersault. "Gods, but I missed you, Arthur. Really."</p><p>Arthur smiled back, reached out, and ruffled Merlin's hair. "Where are we going, anyway?"</p><p>Merlin waved vaguely up the path. "In a kilometer or so or so, this connects to a trail up to the top of a nice hill. Nothing much, really, but it's a nice view of the village and I figured we could sit up there and talk some more, if you wanted to. It's barely half ten in the morning, now, but I like to come out here in the evening sometimes, watch the sunset."</p><p>He looked over his shoulder and gave Arthur a mischievous grin. "Besides, if we want to keep you fighting fit, you'll need to work off all the bacon you had this morning."</p><p>"Are you calling me <em> fat </em>?" Arthur made a grab for him, but Merlin ducked his arm and took off up the trail, laughing as he did.</p><p>"Not at all, <em> sire </em>, but the point is to keep you that way."</p><p>Arthur started after Merlin at a run, yelling at him, and Merlin laughed at him again, looking over his shoulder now and then. When he realized after a few hundred meters that Arthur was gaining on him, a quick flash of gold drew water from deep in the soil, up to the surface, forming a shallow puddle right in Arthur's path.</p><p>To his mock dismay Arthur kept his footing, even as the mud splashed up his legs. "I <em> liked </em> these trousers," he called. "I look good in them. I'll make you pay for that!"</p><p>"'spose you'll have to catch me first," Merlin called over his shoulder as his foot found a tree root.</p><p>He stumbled, and the brief loss of momentum was all it took for Arthur to close the gap and tackle him to the ground.</p><p>Truthfully, Arthur hadn't thought this far ahead. They were both panting, and starting to sweat from the exertion of their game and the riding temperatures of the June morning. Merlin was squirming under him as Arthur struggled to hold him down.</p><p>"You're - utterly - ridiculous," he panted, seizing Merlin's bony wrists with one hand and securing them above his dark head as he brought a knee up to trap Merlin's flailing legs. </p><p>Merlin felt his body start to respond and started thinking fast as he instantly stilled. <em> Picture the Queen naked. No, the American president. There you go, calm down.  </em></p><p>The effect was ruined when he looked at Arthur, who was flushed and panting above him, skin shiny with a thin sheen of sweat, hair mussed from wrestling Merlin down. Merlin could smell him and was struck by a near uncontrollable urge to surge up, lick a stripe up the sweat-salted skin of Arthur's neck, then suck a bruise into the fluttering pulse just below his jaw.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>#sorrynotsorry</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Hill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the long delay - my wrist has been killing me. Hopefully I'll get another update done this weekend, to make up for the long wait!</p>
<p>And also, apologies if the name of the village is terrible. Google Translate had to help me with it, and I'm sure we all know it's not the most reliable. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their horseplay had always been ha- <em> difficult </em> on Merlin, and feeling the press of Arthur's leg against his inner thigh made it hard for him to resist the urge to press into it and get some friction against a part of him that was getting to be very, <em> very </em>interested in this turn of events. </p>
<p>Suddenly, the grip on his wrists loosened, and Arthur sat back before standing up. Merlin could have sworn that he heard a hard swallow and saw Arthur's eyes flick briefly to his lips as Arthur straightened up and extended a hand to pull Merlin to his feet. </p>
<p>"Honestly, <em> Mer </em>lin, after all these years, you haven't figured out where your own feet are? You're covered in leaves." </p>
<p>"Wouldn't have done if you hadn't tackled me to the ground," Merlin muttered back in what he hoped was a light and slightly irritated tone, even if he had a suspicion that his voice had come out a shade husky and low. Merlin took the opportunity to make a show of brushing the leaves, pine needles, and dirt from his clothes, turning and making what he hoped was a subtle adjustment to his condition before Arthur noticed the effect he'd had on him. </p>
<p>This was going to be a very, very long day. He'd spent literally centuries pining after Arthur, spent the morning after the object of his unending affections returned discussing his love life (or lack thereof), and then been wrestled to the ground in a way that, if asked, he would <em> thoroughly deny </em> had ever been a recurring fantasy of his since that day in the market. </p>
<p>The last thing he wanted to do after coming out to Arthur was make his best friend uncomfortable, so he sighed, cast what he hoped was a withering glare over his shoulder, and wandered on up the path. “You coming?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>As they walked on, Merlin leading the way a few paces ahead, Arthur found himself staring at not the trees, (which were, apparently, totally free of the roving hordes of bandits whose prey of choice had always, inexplicably, been well-armed knights on horseback the last time he’d been in any woods), but at the dark curls at the nape of Merlin’s neck.</p>
<p> Merlin had been very openly and candidly honest with him about things that were intensely personal to him, and Arthur was glad. Before, he’d always had a sense that even when Merlin was honest with him, he’d been holding back. He’d always thought it was due to their difference in station - him, a prince, then a king, and Merlin his servant. They had been friends, close friends even, but there was a gap there that couldn’t be bridged.</p>
<p>Of course, on that fateful day at Camlann, he’d learned the true reason, and he had felt hurt and betrayed. As Merlin had journeyed with him to Lake Avalon, he’d realized, slowly, that it wasn’t because Merlin was a sorcerer, so much, but that he’d hidden himself from Arthur, and the realization that his best friend and most trusted confidant hadn’t felt able to trust him in return had cut him deeper than Mordred’s blade.</p>
<p>They were starting to get their easy friendship back, their old push and pull, and Arthur found himself admiring Merlin. He had realized as he was holding Merlin down that Merlin could have thrown him off with a thought, or tied his legs together so he couldn’t give chase. Instead, he’d made a mud puddle appear in Arthur’s path and, mundanely, tripped over a tree root. He hadn’t changed just because Arthur knew his secret now. He was still just Merlin - clumsy, irreverent Merlin - but a Merlin who could make dragons from steam and stop time with barely a thought.</p>
<p>He’d also realized that he’d <em>liked</em> being on top of Merlin, and had briefly been possessed by a mad idea to lean down and kiss him. He’d always acknowledged to himself that Merlin was attractive, and there had definitely been moments in their past where they’d shared moments that had made his heart beat faster and his palms sweat. Or he’d caught Merlin’s eyes across the campfire and they’d briefly shared a look that had made heat pool low in a way that he’d never really experienced with anyone else. <br/>He’d always tamped those feelings down, though. He had an obligation to Camelot to marry and sire an heir, to continue the Pendragon line. Relationships between men weren’t spoken of openly then (well, unless one of the men involved was Gwaine with a couple of pints in him).</p>
<p>Now, though, things were different. If Merlin was to be believed - and Arthur saw no reason not to believe him - there wasn’t really a need to hide those things anymore. And it wasn’t as though he had any need to sire an heir - he might be the Once and Future King, but he didn’t have a throne or a kingdom anymore...</p>
<p>“Arthur. <em> Arthur. </em>” Merlin’s voice sounded from somewhere behind him.</p>
<p>He turned, seeing Merlin lit with a halo of light filtering through the canopy of trees, a few feet up a trail that had forked off from the one they’d been on..</p>
<p>“There you are, dollophead. It’s up this way. Not too much further. You coming?”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Arthur said, backtracking. “Just thinking. Lots to get used to.”</p>
<p>“Don’t hurt yourself,” Merlin grinned. Arthur shoved him into a tree.</p>
<hr/>
<p>About half an hour later, they crested a hill with an ancient, gnarled oak. Far below them, a town about twice the size of Camelot’s lower town spread out on either side of a beautiful stream, sunlight dancing on the water.  It was nestled in the valley between two rocky, craggy hills. Everything looked green, save the dark paved road that ran through it, across a stony bridge, and continued to loop north and east until it disappeared behind the eastern hill.</p>
<p>“That’s Dyffryn-y-Ddraig, Dragon Valley,” Merlin told him. “It’s been around a good 500 years at this point, never really got much bigger. The local police station there will have your sword. I’ll give them a call a bit later and see how we can get it back for you.” He flopped down next to the big tree, leaning back on his elbows and looking down at the town.</p>
<p>Arthur looked down at the town, watching a red car pass across the bridge and down the road, disappearing around the turn. “Dragon Valley?”</p>
<p>“Ah. Well, the Great Dragon stuck around in the area for a few centuries. He passed sometime around 1450 - he went to the lake too - but the legends and rumors persisted. The flag for this part of the United Kingdom, Wales, has a great red dragon on it.”<br/>Arthur smiled. “Pendragon red?”</p>
<p>“Pendragon red.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>"I'd like to see the town," Arthur said, after a little time had passed in easy silence. "See what people are like now." The sun was high above them now, and he felt its gentle rays on his face, warming him even as it filtered through the branches of the ancient oak. He'd taken his long-sleeved shirt off, sitting in just his t-shirt, but still felt the prickle of sweat on his back. </p>
<p>"We can do that," Merlin told him. "Tomorrow, maybe. They do a little Saturday market anyway, and I usually drop in when I can." He stood, stretching like a cat. "If you want to do that, though, we should head back, start getting you ready for modern life."</p>
<p>On their way down, Merlin tried to explain how money worked now, showing Arthur a little card in his wallet, and mentioning the Internet again. "It'll probably be easier if I show you, but it's like a huge web of just pure information. Imagine Geoffrey's library, but all the knowledge that's ever existed on earth, available at the click of a button. And cat pictures. Lots of cat pictures." <em>And porn</em>, he thought. Gods, how on earth was he going to explain that the first time that Arthur searched for something he thought was innocuous, but that carried some double-meaning or slang in this day and age, and Arthur caught an eyeful?</p>
<p>"Cats?" Arthur was confused. "Why cats?"</p>
<p>"Well, cute animals doing funny things in general. Mostly cats, though."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Dyffryn-y-Ddraig Police, this is Sergeant Greenwood," a pleasant female voice came through the lines, "How can I assist you?"</p>
<p>"Yes, hi, my name's Merlin Emrys. My friend got picked up and brought to the hospital a few days ago, and he had a sword with him," Merlin said to the desk sergeant on the other end of the phone. "He had some kind of break. He's home and better now, thank goodness, but I was hoping to get the sword back. It's a bit of a family heirloom, got some sentimental value. Medieval-looking thing, some runes on the blade. I have the provenance documents for it."</p>
<p>"Oh - oh dear." She sounded deeply embarrassed.</p>
<p>"Is there a problem?" Merlin asked, confused. Arthur raised an eyebrow, watching him.</p>
<p>"Well - it's the strangest thing," she stammered. "We've got good chain of custody here, mind. I put it in the evidence locker myself, signed it in, and no one has been in the evidence room since. We've got door sensor logs, CCTV, no breaks in the footage. But... well. I'm sorry, sir. The sword is gone. Vanished."</p>
<p>"What do you mean, vanished?" Merlin asked. Arthur immediately looked livid, and held up a hand for the phone. Merlin held up a hand, urging him to wait.</p>
<p>"It was in an evidence bag, numbered and tagged.  No one entered the room after we brought it in - the door was never opened, and the CCTV in the room confirms as much. I went in this morning to get another look, see if we could maybe track down the owner. It was gone. Disappeared. We can't figure out how. Just... poof. I've just been in knots over it all day. We'll gladly compensate you, if you can provide an estimated value."</p>
<p>Merlin found himself smiling in spite of himself. "No, there's no need, ma'am. I'm sure it'll show up when it's needed again."</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"Don't trouble yourself over it, Sergeant Greenwood. Have a lovely day," he told her, before hanging up. No sword meant no quest, meant Albion was safe for now. Which meant that Arthur was all his until it resurfaced - whenever that was.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Modern Times Pt. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Merlin and Arthur returned to the house, Merlin set to teaching Arthur how to function in a modern society, and making sure he had the tools to do it. A friend of an acquaintance of a friend had agreed to help Merlin ensure that Arthur showed up in all the necessary systems for a not-insubstantial amount of money, but until that happened, proper identification beyond the fake IDs Merlin had waved at the hospital (and facilitated the use of by preventing any kind of digital verification), and therefore a bank account and card would have to wait. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Problem was, Arthur was having a bit of difficulty with decimalized currency.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, there's no gold or silver pieces. This is a £10 note, and then to get to £10.73, you need these," he explained for roughly the 50th time, indicating the coins on the kitchen island. "Look, you'll get the hang of it eventually, you always had a good head for Camelot's finances." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That was simple." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, it was a complete pain in the arse. When we finally switched to doing it this way, it was absurdly simple by comparison." At least, Merlin thought, thinking back to a few insane months in the 60s, once everyone got the hang of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was fascinated by Merlin's phone. He'd watched Merlin call his contact for the necessary paperwork (Merlin always made sure he knew at least one person who could help - he had to reinvent himself fairly frequently) and was astounded - even more so when Merlin showed him the internet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, it’ll take a little getting used to,” he said, pulling up Google, “but literally, anything you want to know, it’s in here.” He tapped out the word “cat” on the keyboard and clicked on the top result, bringing him to Wikipedia. “I mean, not all of it’s true. The downside to people having access to this kind of thing is that, well, some of them don’t mean well by it, and they’ll put things up that aren’t real.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He typed in “King Arthur” and tapped on the top result - a baking flour company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They named flour after me,” Arthur deadpanned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sort of,” Merlin smirked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, at least flour’s important.” Arthur held out the hand for the phone, poking at the screen. “How do I go back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin showed him where to tap, and Arthur went to the Google results for his name, and scrolled down to the Wikipedia article. “Not much of this is right,” he commented, drily. “I thought you said you’d written a book.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that doesn’t mean anyone’s decided to cite it on Wikipedia yet. You can read it if you like,” Merlin said, embarrassed, remembering a late-night argument with Leslie. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All the copy editor is saying is that you talk about his ‘piercing blue eyes’, ‘golden crown of hair’, and ‘broad, muscular shoulders’ a bit too often, and no one will take your book seriously if you describe King Arthur like the male love interest in one of those cheap bodice rippers they sell at the airport. Besides, you can’t really get much detail out of the surviving artistic depiction of him, and it’ll harm the legitimacy of your book as historical.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>In the end, he’d seen reason and trimmed some of the more flowery prose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur played around on the phone for a little bit before Merlin, with a grin, said, “Hey Siri, tell me a joke.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed as Siri’s voice came out of the tinny speaker. “What do you get when you cross a shoe with a banana? A slipper.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Siri,” Merlin said. “Think of it like a… a manservant for your phone. Like me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it actually does things. You don't. You whine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. You can ask it to call someone, make an appointment, tell jokes, sing songs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So really, it’s more like George.” Arthur ducked as Merlin made a grab for him. “Does it have to sound like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like… like cook when you ask her if she’s got any bacon left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Well, you can set different voices. I think there’s a male one - that one actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound a lot like George, it was a bit weird after awhile. And it can do different accents and languages."</span>
  <span>Merlin grinned. “OK, enough with the phone. Once we’ve got your paperwork squared away I’ll get you your own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Arthur made to hand it back, it started to buzz in his hand and he almost dropped it. “It says Leslie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. She’ll have something to go over about the book, I bet. You want to try answering it? Tap that green button, hold it up to your ear, and say something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur did so. “Hello, this is Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Leslie’s tinny voice came through the speaker. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Arthur? Is Merlin having a go? Put him on." </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur handed over the phone, and Merlin held it up, “Sorry, Leslie, it’s me. I have a houseguest at the moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A ‘houseguest’. A houseguest with a sexy-posh voice. Named Arthur.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I know it’s unbelievable, Leslie, but I don’t spend all of my time draped over a laptop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Apparently you’re draped over something else. How piercing and blue are his eyes?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin knew that Arthur could hear her - he’d had the volume up while they were playing with it. He felt his cheeks redden. “I’m assuming you didn’t just call to ask about my social life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh, no, that was just a side benefit of sexy-posh Arthur answering your phone. You’d better believe that the next time you’re in London, I’ll be making you spill the tea, as the kids say, on that. Anyway. You made the New York Times Bestsellers List. Number fourteen. Thought you’d like to know, your book is getting a lot of positive attention.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn't been expecting that. “What?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I know! I mean, part of it’s your writing style - it’s very approachable, so the history doesn’t seem so... I don’t know, dry. It’s like you were actually there in a way. The facts are there but you give them life. Anyway, the publisher is beyond excited and they were curious if you’d consider writing more history books. You’re a brilliant researcher.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have to think about it,” he said. “Nothing until October, for sure, I’m enjoying my break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, yes. And not that it matters, what with your enormous inheritance or whatever it was, but they’re offering a pretty sizable advance. Should I tell them it’s a maybe-yes and we can hammer out the details in the autumn?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For now,” Merlin told her. “I gotta go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sure you do, it seems you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> very </span>
  <span><em>busy with your guest</em>.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Talk later, then, Merls?”</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll think it over and give you a call.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks. Ta!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Leslie rang off.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Sexy-posh Arthur’ she said,” Arthur mused. “I can guess at sexy. What’s posh?”<br/><br/></span>
  <span>“Another word for 'enormous prat'.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Merlin was sprawled across the bed, nestled in his blankets, flat on his stomach with his head turned to the side, snoring gently, when Arthur crept in. It was early yet - the clock on the table next to the bed said 7:43. They were supposed to visit the village today, to see it and, at Arthur’s insistence, make sure everything was squared away with the local authorities, and he was impatient to get the day started.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached out to grab Merlin’s shoulder and roughly shake him awake, but before he could touch him, Merlin let out a low, husky moan and shifted his hips, grinding down into the mattress in an unmistakable movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. That was awkward. It wasn’t as though Arthur had never been awakened in a similar state. It was one of those Things that he and Merlin had always had a silent agreement never to mention, which Arthur had always found fortunate, since the topic of no small number of those dreams (among some pretty maidens and, on one memorable and deeply embarrassing occasion, Sir Gwaine), frequently was the one waking him by yanking the draperies open and hollering some inanity at a volume that shook dust from the chandeliers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin moaned into his pillow again and rutted against the sheets below him once more, and the sound caused a shudder like electricity to race down Arthur’s spine. Oh, this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not fair</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Merlin didn't get to just make noises like <em>that</em>, in Arthur's presence, blissfully asleep and completely ignorant of the effect they were having on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stood, thought for a moment, and then yanked the curtains across the large, east-facing bay window open. “Up and at ‘em, you… you cabbage head,” he yelled, startling Merlin up. He caught the immediate flash of embarrassment before it was replaced with indignation. Good. That sense of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, oh no, I’m hard as a rock </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span> How long has he been here, I hope I didn’t make any embarrassing sounds or, Gods forbid, actually talk in my sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span> was extremely familiar to Arthur, and he was glad to finally return the favor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur, it’s not even 8.” Merlin groaned, pulling the bedspread up over his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said we’d visit the village today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, later. Nothing will even be open yet. Well,” he corrected himself, muffled by the comforter. “The coffee shop might be. It is tourist season."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coffee?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Arthur, coffee. Fancy coffee, even.” He sighed. “Fine. Let’s grab the eggs, then I’ll shower and we can go. You want the broom or the basket?”<br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Basket."<br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fine." Merlin shoved the blankets off his head, glaring. "Get out so I can get dressed."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise it'll earn its rating soon...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Or... Whoever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really am sorry this took so long! Life has been totally insane lately and when my wrist has cooperated enough for typing I just did not have the right headspace for anything creative. This chapter's been a jumbled mess in my google driver while I tried to figure out how to fit all the elements together, and if I'm being honest I'm still not happy with it. But, it's progress!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>Arthur requested the basket. Merlin, grinning, leaned the broom up against the side of the coop, whispered a spell and, with a flash of gold, picked the squawking rooster up and held him in the air.</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Hop to it, then,” he said, gesturing at the coop.</span><span><br/></span> <span>“If you could do that, why’d you make me fend him off with the broom yesterday?” Arthur demanded.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, I thought it’d be funny. And I was right.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Once they were finished minding the chickens, Merlin and Arthur got ready to head into town. Merlin took a shower so cold that he was pretty sure no blood would be flowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if only because it was now frozen. Now he was running around putting things into pockets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Phone, keys, sunglasses… wallet. Wallet, wallet… Arthur, ‘ve you seen a little square of leather about this big?” Merlin held his hands up a few inches apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur looked around and shrugged. “No?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blast.” Merlin kept dashing around, shifting books and clutter in the semi-controlled chaos that always seemed to surround him. Getting desperate, he started digging around the couch cushions, shouting a triumphant “HA!” when he produced the troublesome item. “Alright, now we can go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we taking the… car, again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Arthur. You’ll get used to it.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“But how does it </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Arthur asked again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Arthur, I told you already. I’m not a huge expert on the internal combustion engine. I’ve explained it as best I can. You’ll have to Google the rest. I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Merlin told him, exasperated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “useless” and returned to looking out the window at the pastures they were passing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much longer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really are a child, d’you know that? An absolute child. I’m not humoring you. We’ll get there when we get there, and not a moment sooner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That turned out to only be a few minutes, but it was the principle of the thing, really.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin pulled into a parking space in front of Camelot Café, a bright, cheery looking building with an exterior façade clearly intended to look like a castle. Arthur looked a bit dubious at the decor. “Camelot Café?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I know it’s a bit tacky, but it’s really just to get the tourists in. I promise the coffee is good, and they serve breakfast, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <span>“Merlin!” the cheery blonde girl behind the counter called, the second he walked in. “The famous author himself!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sara!” he replied. “Term over for the summer, then? How’s classes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So far so good!” she said, her soft brown eyes traveling over to Arthur. “Oh - who’s this then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sara, this is Arthur. Arthur, Sara, best barista in town”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pleasure,” Sara told Arthur. “What can I get you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Caffe Mocha, please, with-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“- a dash of cinnamon on top. I remember. And for you, Arthur?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er-” Arthur was staring at the menu, clearly confused. He gave Sara his usual, knee-jellying grin then. “Whatever you think would be good, honestly, you’re the expert.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin felt an ugly stab of jealousy as Sara beamed back. “Let’s do a latte then, if you don’t mind being the guinea pig for a new latte art I’ve been working on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, sure. Sounds great,” Arthur responded, hiding his befuddlement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything to eat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“D’you still have those ham and cheese pastries?” Merlin asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure do! Two of those, as well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, please!” Merlin got his wallet out to pay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he was putting his card back in his wallet, he noticed Sara watching him with a small frown. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“OK, so… I’m taking a couple of online classes over the summer break to try and get a little more crammed in. One of them’s in interview techniques, since you know I’m going for journalism.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that sounds interesting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, for an end-of-term project, I have to interview someone and submit it to be graded. Since you’ve just got your book out... well, I was wondering if you’d be willing to sit down with me for it? I know you’ve been trying to avoid as much media attention for your book as possible, just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy to help,” Merlin said, with a smile. “Just let me know when.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh - wonderful!” Sara bounced and clapped her hands. “Any no-go areas? Like, things you don’t want to talk about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m happy to answer anything you like about the book, but I’d prefer to keep my personal life out of things if that’s alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sara’s eyes drifted to Arthur, and Merlin could almost hear the unspoken question before her warm brown eyes snapped back to his. “I think I can work with that.  Easy enough. Thanks! You gents grab a table, I’ll bring everything over once it’s ready.” With another excited grin, she shooed them from the counter.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Merlin and Arthur took seats at one of the round, dark wood tables by the front window, right in front of a display of books. In between the tour guides for the area, pamphlets advertising local businesses, and a few fiction books on Arthurian legend, Merlin spotted a few copies of his own books as well, with a big, hand-drawn tag hanging off the shelf that said, ‘Local Author” in a pretty, looping script.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tables were on the small side, and Merlin felt his knees knock against Arthur’s under the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoops, sorry,” he said, scooting his chair and trying to rearrange, accidentally swinging a foot forward and kicking Arthur in the ankle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit, Merlin,” Arthur groaned, leaning down to rub the bruised joint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d just managed to get all their limbs arranged by the time Sara started walking over with a tray. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One Mocha a la Merlin,” she said, placing the steaming mug down. “Two ham-and-cheese pastries.” Two small plates with the contents still steaming followed. “And a latte for Arthur!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She placed the steaming mug down in front of Arthur, and, though it was upside-down, Merlin could see that the foamed milk had formed an extremely detailed image of a dragon. Arthur looked at it with some admiration. “Wow, that’s.... I’ve never seen something like that in a beverage before. It’s very detailed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks!” Sara beamed. “I’ve been practicing. We’ve seen a little more tourism since, well, Merlin’s book and between the name of the town, all those legends about our own dragon, the Welsh flags, and King Arthur’s supposed standard, I thought we’d try to make it our specialty. It’s taken a while for me to really get it figured out. They looked a bit like fat geckos up till last week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur laughed. “No, it looks really good. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sara beamed at him again and walked away, and Arthur shifted in his chair a little. His knee brushed Merlin’s under the table again, and Merlin had the insane thought that Arthur might be doing it on purpose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They chatted some over breakfast, with Arthur asking questions about little bits of modern life that he saw around him and Merlin answering as best he could. (“It’s pop music, Arthur, it’s a bit different than what you’re used to. I’ll put the radio in the car on the way back if you think you can handle it. Or I’ll put on something from my phone, I see you liking Queen or Bowie. You know, I met David Bowie once...”). As they talked, that knee brushed Merlin’s again, and didn’t move away this time. He could swear he felt the heat from Arthur’s leg even through the layers of fabric that separated their skin, and he tried not to think about when Arthur had wrestled him down to the ground the day before, so close that Merlin could smell him and feel the tickle of Arthur’s breath on his neck. It made it difficult to focus on the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a little while, they finished up their coffee and breakfast and made to get going, and Sara bounded up again. “You can leave the plates, I’ll get them. Thanks so much for agreeing to let me interview you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome. I’ll ring you so we can figure out a time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brilliant!” Sara pulled a slip of paper out of her apron and surprised Merlin by handing it to Arthur instead. “Hold onto this for him, will you? Oh, and feel free to give me a call if you need someone to show you around town.” She winked and turned to start gathering the dishes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin felt a rock settle into the pit of his stomach as Arthur turned the slip of paper over to reveal Sara’s mobile number on the other side.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“That was kind of her to offer to show me around,” Arthur said, handing the paper over to Merlin as they started down the street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind,” Merlin ground out, a muscle working in his jaw. “Extremely so, to offer to go out of her way like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s got your trousers in a twist?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mer</span>
  </em>
  <span>lin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just… unprofessional, is all,” Merlin told him, landing on a workable excuse, and doing his best to sound exasperated rather than jealous. “She was asking you out, Arthur. She was just trying to be subtle about it. Because she was supposed to be</span>
  <em>
    <span> working</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” A beat. “I mean, she seemed nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, did she? I hadn’t noticed,” Merlin said, trying not to sound bitter while deeply regretting agreeing to be interviewed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>obligated</span>
  </em>
  <span> to call her, am I?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“What? No. I mean, if you don’t want to call, don’t call.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span> <span>Merlin and Arthur made for a shop down the street so Merlin could get Arthur added to his mobile plan and help him pick out a phone. He was idly watching the progress of a street cat  moving rapidly across the street and under a parked car when Arthur came out with, “So how </span><em><span>does </span></em><span>courtship work these days?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Caught off-guard Merlin’s sharp inhale set off a coughing fit that brought tears to his eyes as he choked on his own saliva, Arthur giving him one of his trademark withering glares (Glare #7, or “Merlin, How Are You Even Still Alive”). “Sorry, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Courtship</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Merlin. Things have changed a lot, you said. So, say I wanted to woo someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ </span>
  <em>
    <span>Woo</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone? Have you tried banging on her door uninvited and shouting that you’re destiny and chicken?” Merlin asked, recovering rapidly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought we’d agreed never to discuss that again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t resist. Well, for one thing, don’t call it ‘courtship’ or ‘wooing’. It’s dating now, or ‘going out’ maybe. Pretty much you just wander up to the girl-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-or whoever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or… what? That- whoever-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Interesting development, we’ll come back round to that later. “Whoever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then, that you’re interested in and try to make conversation. If it goes well, you can ask them out, or offer them your phone number, and then you get in touch and arrange to do something together. Go for a hike, grab a coffee or something. Maybe catch a movie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We did those things,” Arthur told him, starting in on his pastry. “Well, except the ‘movie’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yes, Arthur, but it’s more </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> you do it with and why.” His thoughts flicked back to the way Arthur kept brushing their knees together under the tiny cafe table. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s he so worried about? He’s definitely got a handle on flirting, even if he doesn’t realize it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I mean, you and Gwen went on walks, same as you and I did. It was just different.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or was it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Between the maybe-unintentional-maybe-hopefully-not teasing and the sudden insistence on “whoever”, Merlin suddenly wasn’t sure. They’d been so close, and their friendship had never exactly been </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Arthur had tolerated an awful lot more out of Merlin than he’d ever tolerated from anyone else, and Merlin had, admittedly, been a rubbish servant the whole while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So really, not much has changed,” Arthur commented, snapping Merlin out of his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, OK. There’s apps now to help you meet people. Or just hook up if that’s all you’re after. Look, we’ll watch a romantic comedy on Netflix later and I’ll point out all the bits they got wrong. There’s more to it - a lot more - but we can talk about it later. Let’s get you a phone.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh Gods. I’m going to have to give Arthur the safe sex Talk.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Modern Times Pt. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Say ‘cheese’! Merlin  said, suddenly, turning around with his own iPhone held aloft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheese?” Arthur said, hesitantly, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, see. Perfect. Frustrated confusion,” Merlin replied with an enormous grin, turning the phone around. Arthur saw his own face looking back at him with an utterly ridiculous look of confusion painting his features.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Saving that as your contact pic,” Merlin told him, “I’ll know it’s you whenever you call.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, no.” Arthur struggled to recall the word. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Delete</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Delete it, Merlin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” Merlin put his phone back in his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t delete it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope. Look, everyone gets a terrible photo as their contact photo. It’s like, the law.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The law.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… OK, fine, not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>law-</span>
  </em>
  <span>law. It’s just, </span>
  <em>
    <span>understood.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me take a bad one of you then,” Arthur demanded, hitting the button Merlin said opened the camera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s got to be candid - natural. I can’t just pull a face, it’ll look forced.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur considered this for a moment. “Fine, then. What else is there to do here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, there’s the park. There’s the local inn, which has a small museum attached. We can drop by the police, if you want, and see about your sword.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I forgot about the sword. Didn’t you…” Arthur waved his hand in that vague manner he used to mean, broadly, anything magical, “disappear it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wasn’t me. Even then, I told you - I try to keep my head down. An overt display of magic in a police station with video recording? Let’s just scream, ‘magic is real’ out in the 21st century, that’ll go over great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>stopped time</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the hospital.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, in a private patient room with no video recording. Just a doctor who looked a bit exhausted by the medieval king that dropped into his lap and kept assaulting his staff in a barmy escape attempt. Only thing he noticed was some oddness with his wristwatch. No proof there, just some weirdness with the clocks, a mysterious communications outage and a server crash.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Just’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shrugged. “Technology, these days. What can you do?”\</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“We were hoping to speak to a Sergeant Greenwood,” Merlin said, to the uniformed police officer at the desk, who was sporting a slowly fading bruise on her cheek. “My name is Merlin Emrys, they told us we could drop by regarding an antique sword that went missing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that was me. Lynne Greenwood. You’re looking better,” she said to Arthur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you at the arrest?” Merlin asked, surprised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, yeah. Terrified motorist saying this soaking wet man lurched out of the thicket at their car swinging this massive sword. My partner and I were on-call, we took it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Arthur told her, looking genuinely apologetic. “Did I do that? It’s a bit of a blur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sergeant Greenwood shrugged. “Nothing broken, although it was a near thing. I got you with a taser in the end. We were worried when we realized that the armor you were wearing was real metal, but no harm done in the end. Glad to see you’re on the mend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was it the doctor said it was, Merlin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dissociative fugue state with paranoid psychosis. And delusions of grandeur, but you’ve always had those.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m so sorry about the sword. You said it was an heirloom?” she said, turning to Merlin.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Oh, yes, it’s been in my family for centuries - over a thousand years,” Merlin lied, smoothly, feeling Arther stiffen next to him. “You said it was in evidence?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Sergeant Greenwood nodded. “Yeah. Look - we’re not supposed to do this, strictly speaking. But… I’m the only one in today, and if you like I can let you see the CCTV. It’s bloody weird. We’ve had tech experts in and everything, they can’t figure it out.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sergeant Greenwood had them come around the counter, and pulled up the video. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s you,” Arthur said, when the door on the video opened and Greenwood entered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep, that’s me. Er. We can skip this bit, speed it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sped up the video playback and Merlin pretended not to notice the way she swung the sword around like she was at a tourney a few times before putting it carefully on a shelf and tagging it, suppressing a grin. He glanced to her other side and saw Arthur doing the same, struggling to keep a straight face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here’s the interesting bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She returned the video to normal speed, and the sword was still on the shelf - until it wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Play it again?” Merlin asked. “Slow it down if you can?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did, playing it at a quarter of its speed. Excalibur lay on the shelf, then vanished in the blink of an eye. Merlin caught a shadow, briefly, in the reflection on the small window in the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t figure it out. Anyway, if you’ve got an appraisal, I can help you file a claim. Know it can’t replace the sentimental value, but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin waved his hand, dismissively. “No, no. As I said on the phone, it’ll turn up when it’s needed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep talking like that, you’ll be the next tourist attraction. Or you can open a shop over with Derek, read tarot for the tourists.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you mean, ‘All-Seeing Alaister’, isn’t that what he’s been calling himself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I saw All-Seeing Alaister walk into a freezer door at Tesco’s last week, so maybe he ought to open his other two eyes, not just his third one.” She smiled. “I’ve been reading your book, you know. It’s not every day a local celebrity gets to write something so cool. I felt bloody awful when I realized it was your sword we lost.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>After a few more offers of compensation, and more polite rejections from Merlin, they emerged into the outdoors once again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you saw something in that video,” Arthur told him. “You got that look. I know that look. It used to be the look you got on your face right before I couldn’t find you for hours and Gaius said you were at the tavern.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin rubbed the back of his neck. “The Sidhe have the sword. Not surprising, given they reside in Avalon. Wonder what they wanted it for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s powerful?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, but I lobbed it into the lake before. Fr- it came back again later, and I gave it to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ‘lobbed it into the lake’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a very long story, Arthur.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What else have you lobbed into the lake? ‘d you lob me into the lake too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I made a good effort at it but you’re bloody heavy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur threw back his head and laughed. "Fair enough. I wouldn't mind hearing the story."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You sure?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah - absolutely. Real quick though - catch."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin turned and was not quite quick enough to catch the balled up wad of paper that collided with his forehead as Arthur snapped a photo of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah, yes - clumsy, staring like a startled fawn, completely missing the thing about to collide with your head. Saving that as your picture, so I'll know it's you when you call."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin's face split in a wide grin, and Arthur felt butterflies flutter up in his stomach as warmth crept up his cheeks.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Corticosteroids are a hell of a thing, my arm almost feels normal. Hoping to do a lot of writing this week, so keep your eyes open.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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